


Three

by lildemonlili



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Be as One, Other, canonverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 22:15:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16355282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lildemonlili/pseuds/lildemonlili
Summary: Bathed in the blue lights from the candy bongs, the nine members look back.Third anniversary fic based on the BDZ Arena Tour.





	Three

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt from twt user stuckonmyoui, thank you for suggesting it!!

They’ve known it for months; have practiced and recorded and worried. Wondered and dreamed how it might look and sound and feel. But as they sit on the steps, bathed in the blue light from their fans, it’s clear, that no matter what they did, there was no way to prepare for this. The goosebumps that spread across their skin like subtle waves, the nerves pressing on their overwhelmed hearts and tired vocal cords. And as the song flows, they’re all there - together; and somehow not there at all. As if distant movies play in front of their eyes, effortlessly twined with the feeling of each others’ presence and the sight of what they have achieved; the undeniable love that flows between all of them in the arena tonight.

 

…

 

Amongst the blue lights, a girl dances in front of an old television, her little feet light and the movements surprisingly powerful for a girl who’s only just turned seven. An older lady watches her with glistening eyes, returning every bright smile the little girl sends. The girl twirls, arms stretched above her head, looking for the skies above, though the clouds are full of snow and would probably be cold to touch. The moment she slows to change her movements, she can feel it in her head and tummy - the dizziness. But she doesn’t want to stop dancing. The girls on TV are still dancing, and she just wants to keep them company, their beautiful voices filling the living room.

 

One wrong step, and the girl stumbles and falls onto her butt, chuckling at herself.

“Sana-chan, be careful!” The older lady says lovingly, reaching for the girl, lifting Sana by the waist into her lap. Sana is still chuckling and her grandmother can’t help to do so as well. It’s an amazing ability for such a young child; always more prone to laughter than tears. 

“They’re so pretty babaa.” Sana sighs happily.

“You are pretty too, Sana-chan.” The grandmother says, stroking her cheek softly. The girl puffs out both cheeks in protest to the grandmother’s praises.

“Not pretty like them babaa, their dresses are so sparkly and they sing like angels.”

“It could be you in a few years, if you wanted. Standing there in a sparkly dress with your beautiful voice.” The grandmother searches the little girl’s eyes. “Oh how I would love to see you dancing inside my television.”

“To dance like the pretty girls?” Sana asks, confused by the way her grandmother’s eyes glaze over for a second. With a tilt of the head she takes the wrinkly face between her little hands.

“But babaa, I don’t have to be inside the television to dance for you?”

“Mm, you dance for me so beautifully every day my child. But I wish to see you all grown up and beautiful, singing and dancing on that stage for me.” The grandma says quietly.

“Then I will.” Sana sits up straight, squishing the grandma’s cheeks as she holds them. “I will sing and dance for you every day and inside the television when I’m grown up.”

“I would like that very much.” The grandma smiles. Then she takes Sana’s hands from her face and hold them tight. “I would like that very much.”

The blue lights flicker inside the television and in front of Sana’s eyes. The lights from thousands of people here to see her dance and sing so beautifully.

 

…

 

The soft plinking of the piano echoes the soft humming from full lips, as Chaeyoung’s head bends over the paper. It’s an honor she had never imagined, and she’s still not entirely sure how to react. But she can do nothing but her best.

“Are you going to try?” Jeongyeon asks, stopping as she walks past.

Chaeyoung looks up shyly, “I don’t know where to start.”

Jeongyeon nods, looking at the blank paper and the little description of the layout directions next to it. Reads over it and puts a hand on Chaeyoung’s shoulder.

“You’ll know in time.” Jeongyeon merely says.

“The deadline is next week.” Chaeyoung can’t quite hide the worry in her voice.

“And you’re going to get it done. I know you will. It’s a responsibility I would entrust no-one else.” Jeongyeon ruffles the red hair and walks on.

They’re at a photoshoot for a commercial with a new investor, and they have to do their very best. But the preparations for their first comeback are taking up most of their time so Chaeyoung has to draw on set instead of sleeping like most of the other members are currently doing.

She stares down at the paper again. Tries to envision everything that she wants from the upcoming album. Just the fact that they get to have a second album is incredible, but getting to make a special version is beyond anything Chaeyoung could have hoped for.

 

And it would have been fine, except nothing is happening. She’s just staring at it. Yet, there’s something in her mind that tells her why it’s not working. And maybe that’s why she gets up, taking her stuff with her, and walks from the quiet empty room to the changing room where her members either sleep or otherwise relaxing, lest for Jihyo who’s shooting currently.

Settling in the middle of the changing room, Chaeyoung puts the paper on the floor, lies down on her front, and starts drawing. And it’s effortless, with them. She can draw much else just fine by her own, but in order to get this right she needs to be able to see them. 

 

Little by little, they wake or fall asleep or change who’s out shooting, and Chaeyoung still lies there in the middle of the room, drawing the cover for their second mini album.

And now she’s here, in a different country, singing in a language that isn’t hers, yet it somehow is, with the eight of them around her and the blue lights shining upon her.

 

… 

 

Voices, so familiar and filled with love, flow through Dahyun’s heart, singing to their fans. The lights are too dim for her to make out their faces, though she wishes that she could. They appear before her eyes; the kind eyes, and kind words from the lips of the people who hope for them. Reads a slip of paper and nods.

“That’s a pretty name!” Dahyun comments as she writes a message on her page. Can’t help but peek at the messages from the other members.

“Thank you.” The fan smiles, and his eyes crinkle. “It’s so cold out today, did you remember to bring hotpads?”

Dahyun nods and pulls one from the pocket of her skirt. It’s not often that she has pockets in her clothes lest for the mic pockets, but today she’s wearing a jean skirt and has a hotpack in each pocket to keep her warm.

“Ah, that’s so pretty! I love the little ducks!” The fan looks excitedly at the hotpack.

“Did you remember to bring hotpacks?” Dahyun asks. “It must have been so cold for you to wait for us.”

The fan shakes his head. “No I forgot, but my coat is padded so it’s okay.”

Dahyun nods. Wishes she could give him the hotpack but knows she’s not allowed. Instead she writes a reminder for him to remember them next time. An arm from her manager asks the fan to go on, and she memorizes the crinckles around his eyes. Gives him a hitouch and wriggles her head a bit, reminding him that she’s wearing the headband he gave her. He smiles brightly and thanks her before moving on.

 

It’s impossible to remember them all, though she tries. But even if she forgets sometimes, she feels the love in every pair of eyes. In every voice asking her to eat and sleep well; that tells her she has gotten prettier; that asks her to make sure she doesn’t get sick.

“Hello!” Dahyun smiles brightly as the next fan sits down in front of her. This one has a mole above her eyebrow, almost in the same place as Nayeon does, and Dahyun ties it to her voice as she greets Dahyun, handing her a plush toy. Dahyun immediately hugs it, feeling the soft fabric against her arms. The girl has a beautiful smile, and Dahyun asks for her name.

 

And tonight, with her members singing on the steps around her, she wants to remember every heart in the arena, beating for the nine of them.

 

…

 

It’s the voices of her unnies that carry Tzuyu back. The love she feels like an aura around their bodies as she looks around at them on the stage.

“You look tired Tzuyu-ah,” Mina says quietly settling in the couch beside the younger girl. 

Tzuyu nods and smiles the best she can.

“Did you sleep?” Mina asks, digging her phone out from the pocket of her padded coat.

“Not since this morning.” Tzuyu says, masking a yawn. “But it’s okay, I’m up next and then I will sleep.”

“You can lean against me and close your eyes for a moment if you want?” Mina offers, opening one of the games on her phone. Tzuyu doesn’t recognize it.

With a nod, Tzuyu takes her own phone from her lap and shuffles to rest her head on Mina’s shoulder. Opens her pictures and looks through them.

“Are you sleepy, Tzuyu-ah?” Asks another voice. Dahyun settles on Tzuyu’s other side.

“Mh,” Tzuyu mumbles. Turns her head on Mina’s shoulder and sends Dahyun a lazy smile.

“Can you help me choose a selfie for the photocards?”

Dahyun nods and shifts, accepting Tzuyu’s open arm’s, nuzzling into her. Mina’s breathy giggle makes them both look around but she’s burried in her game. It was probably just a reaction to the extra weight on her side.

“What about this one?” Dahyun asks, pointing at Tzuyu’s phone. Tzuyu tears her eyes from Mina’s subtle smile and looks back down at her phone, Dahyun’s finger shuffling through the pictures from today.

“It seems a bit… posh, though?” Tzuyu scrunches her nose.

“You could take a silly selca for once?” Dahyun suggests as an alternative. 

Tzuyu scrunches her nose.

“It doesn’t have to be stupid like Jeongyeon-unnie’s but-“

“Stupid like my what now?” Asks Jeongyeon, appearing as if summoned.

Dahyun gives a nervous laugh before answering. “We were talking about selcas for the album.”

“I never use my stupid selcas for them. But maybe I should start?”

“Oh please no, the fans don’t need your duckface in a photocard.” Dahyun grins.

“Hey, my duckface is superior.” Jeongyeon argues.

Tzuyu just smiles and looks at her unnies.

“I could try to take a silly one? I won’t promise I’ll use it though.”

“You can take one really pretty one and a really stupid one. Copy Jeongyeon’s smoochy lips.” Dahyun suggests. Mina chuckles quietly by Tzuyu’s side, eyes still glued to the screen.

Tzuyu nods and opens the camera app, turning the camera to front. Then sits up properly, retreating her arm from around Dahyun to get the angle right.

Her unnies laugh at her duckface, but Tzuyu doesn’t mind; knows she looks ridiculous. And besides, it makes them all get more energy, and Tzuyu can see that they’ve needed it. She takes a pretty selca too, not too posh. And even if she ends up using that one for a photocard and not the others, it’s okay. Because she’s helped her unnies get through the rest of the day a little easier, just like they help her.

 

She has never been the best at expressing her feelings, and it’s always been hard to return their affection. But not tonight. Tonight they sing for her in the blue lights, and she sings for them, hoping they can hear in her words how much she loves them.

 

…

 

Everything about this situation should be pulling at Momo’s confidence. Should be making her feel nervous and naked and vulnerable. There are no moves, no complex sound to mask her voice.

As she opens her mouth to sing, she can see the wooden floors and panels on the walls, the mirrors on one side and the black door on the other. And it’s a splitsecond that lasts a lifetime as she’s suddenly back to the hardest day in her life. The day she stood back up, with sore muscles and a broken heart.

 

She’s so sure that this is it. That she will have to watch her best friends go on without her. That she will be stuck in this room for god knows how many years and still not be good enough. But she’s chosen this room.

“Momo-ya. You can take a day.” Sana’s voice is small from the couch. “Think it over, what you want.”

“No.” Momo shakes her head, pulling the hoodie over her face, throwing it gently onto the couch where Sana and Nayeon sit, both hugging their legs, looking at her. They have to leave soon, but made it a priority to come see her. Momo loves them for that.

“I was so sure.” Sana whispers and Momo closes her eyes. She can’t deal right now. Can’t face the fact that she will have to see Sana debut without her.

“It’s fine.” Momo insists.

“Momo I’m-“

“Debut well for me?” Momo interrupts Nayeon, her eyes firm on Nayeon’s. Ignores the way they still itch from last night and this morning.

“Momo,” Sana starts.

“Promise me Sana. Promise me you’ll debut well and become someone admirable.”

Sana hesitates, opening her mouth, but Nayeon’s hand closes around hers.

“Okay.” Nayeon croaks. “We promise.”

Momo nods and turns away from them. Looks at herself in the mirror. A poor excuse for a girl who once had no fears. Then she goes through her phone to find a song. The first song. And even if it’s too easy, there’s something about dancing this exact routine. Nayeon’s eyes fill with tears as the notes play. Momo ignores it. Doesn’t want to cry. Has cried all night. Right now she just wants to dance.

So she does. Dances with all she has, seeing how her friends watch her with expressions Momo can’t quite decipher.

 

The dance hurts, but in the best way possible. Washes over her broken heart, healing her more effectively than anything else could. She knows they want her to talk about it. That they want to express their remorse for the night before. But she won’t let them. They have to be strong without her. They have to win and become admirable people without her. And maybe some day they will get to watch her in concert or wherever she might end. As long as she doesn’t give up. As long as she keeps dancing. Not that she can even glimpse hope in the horizon right now.

 

As the arena returns and the training room fades away, Momo finishes her part. Then steals a glance at Sana. Finds the younger girl’s eyes on her and realizes what it was three years ago; the look in Sana and Nayeon’s eyes.

 

Admirance.

 

…

 

It’s an unimaginable feeling, to be the center of so many people’s attention, and the stairs are hard and cold against her thighs as she takes the song into the first chorus.

“Ya, Jihyo-yah!” Sana’s voice sounds from the kitchen, catching Mina’s attention. She looks from the tv towards the doorway to their little kitchen. Jihyo’s laughter bursts like fireworks and Mina smiles as Sana keeps complaining.

“If there’s a murder going on I never saw anything.” Nayeon mutters, huddling closer under the blanket. Mina mumbles her agreement but still glances out towards the kitchen. 

 

The sound of feet announce a new arrival, and Mina looks up.

“What are we watching?” Chaeyoung asks, settling on Nayeon’s other side.

“Netflix.” Nayeon doesn’t elaborate on the show. Mina knows it’s because she doesn’t remember what it’s called but as Chaeyoung doesn’t ask further, Mina doesn’t tell. Just watches the tv absentmindedly, keeping an eye on the room as the members and managers shuffle in an out of it. One by one they settle with dinner or snacks. It’s a rare night. All of them home at the same time, and no schedules until noon the next day.

 

It’s not that Mina dislikes the schedules, she loves them. Loves her life. But it’s moments like these when she’s reminded why she loves it so much. That it’s the members around her, the attention and care they all pay to each other, that makes Mina’s heart swell. She can’t imagine anyone else she’d rather share this life with.

Dahyun and Jihyo laugh at Jeongyeon’s attempt to take a way too large bite of her bread. Sana comments on the show they’re watching and reminds them that Stray Kids will be performing on  _ The Show  _ in about twenty minutes. Chaeyoung checks how much is left of the episode and Nayeon accidentally reveals the vital plot twist for the episode in her attempts to reassure them that it’ll be done in time. Momo complains loudly at this and Tzuyu smiles timidly, accepting the chopsticks that Jeongyeon offers her. Mina smiles.

They all cheer for Stray Kids that night, yelling their fanchants at the television, a manager recording them to send the video to the guys. So they know that their unnies are here to support them.

 

She’s often asked what she could change from her past, if she could; and her answer is always the same. Nothing. Because what if some change in her past would lead her away from this life?

It’s an honor beyond comparison; to lead so many through a song. And Mina knows she won’t ever get used to it. But it’s okay, because she’s not alone. She’s never alone.

 

…

 

How it’s possible to feel so overwhelmed every time, Nayeon never knows, but just as she’s about to sing she’s surer than ever that her voice will fail her.

It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last, that the love around her has brought her to tears.

“Hey it’s okay.”

Nayeon can hear Jihyo’s voice in her head, somewhere far away and still so close.

“It’s okay, it’s-“ Jihyo’s voice cracks. Nayeon sobs. 

It’s beyond anything they could have hoped for. Song of the year isn’t an award that rookies get. It just isn’t. And definitely not two years in a row. Yet somehow they’re here, in the black capes and the glass statue in Nayeon’s hands, the tears streaming down her face. 

“Nayeon?” Jeongyeon’s voice is close, but Nayeon’s vision is completely blurred and she ends up shutting her eyes tight, clutching the little MAMA statue.

“What’s wrong with her?” Jeongyeon asks.

“Just happy I think?” Jihyo answers.

Nayeon sobs harder. Has no clue what’s going on or how to calm down.

“Nayeon? You’re okay right?” Jeongyeon asks her. Nayeon sniffles and nods. There are hands on her back and around her shoulder but she’s not sure which are Jeongyeon’s and which are Jihyo’s. Just opens her eyes slightly, staring at the award. There are droplets of tears on it. Then Jeongyeon’s hand closes around the award and takes it with her. Walks away without a world.

Nayeon’s body reacts instinctively, reaching for the award and Jeongyeon, and she’s not sure which she needs more, but she can hear Jihyo’s chuckle in her ear. Knows it’s not malignant but she just can’t stop crying.

It’s feels like the peak of her career in this moment and she wasn’t ready for it to go this fast. Isn’t in a mindset where she can fully enjoy this moment.

Then Jeongyeon is back, handing Nayeon tissues and sets her down on the couch; Jeongyeon on one side and Jihyo on the other. And for a moment she’s safe in their middle. With her oldest friends who she hoped to debut with not just one but two times. And their nickname reflects it. The biggest moment- the biggest- the award. Where is the award? She can’t speak. But she somehow manages to grasp at Jeongyeon enough for her to get it, and then the clear glass is back in Nayeon’s hands. She bends over it with a sob and lets the tears drip onto it.

She had been so sure, that night, that it wouldn’t get bigger than this. But as they sit on the stairs she knows, that every moment like this is the biggest in some way. That there is no peak, but merely wonderful, impossibly overwhelming soaring.

 

…

 

She can feel every single pair of eyes in the Arena on her, as she sings her line. And it hits her in that moment just how close she was to choosing a life that wasn’t this one; and for a moment she’s back in the apron in the bright sunlight streaming through the windows as the sun rises. She’s been up for a while, but that’s the life when you work at a bakery. You tend to compete with the sun about who rises first.

“Yoo Jeongyeon!”

The voice is loud and demanding, and Jeongyeon immediately leaves the dough behind, careful not to touch anything as she pops her head into the shop from the back room.

“Sir?”

“Give me the time on the rolls, we’re out already.”

“Of course.” Jeongyeon nods, heading across the room to the big steel grey oven, looking at the timer on it. Then she heads back to the door.

“Seven minutes sir.”

“Good, finish the dough quickly and let it set. I want the muffins baking in three minutes.” The man says with authority. 

“Yes, sir.” Jeongyeon nods and smiles. 

There’s a satisfaction in this work. The routine and the order of the different things to make, the recipes. Like dancing the same steps just in new combinations every day. New and safe at the same time. Like dancing… like singing.

For a second Jeongyeon loses herself but then she’s back, hurrying over to the dough. Kneads it and puts it aside to set. Grabs two huge plates of muffins and carries them to the oven.

As she sets them down, she loses her footing just a little, but a reflex and what turns into a familiar dance move saves her. And when she opens the oven she can hear her own humming over the sound of the mixer in the corner. Lets the words to her favorite song flow from her lips, and takes another few steps.

 

She’s dancing around the kitchen before she knows it, checking on everything effortlessly, and finally takes the rolls out of the oven, beautifully brown from the egg glaze on top, soft to touch and smelling like a dream.

“Very nice Yoo.” Her boss praises as she fills up the basket. “You got talent.”

She knows it’s true, and she flies at the praise.

It’s that day she gets a call, and a choice. She chooses the dance; the song. Not because it’s the easy choice or maybe even the best choice. She’ll never know. All she knows is that she’s talented. 

And she loves to sing.

 

It would be wrong to say that she hasn’t doubted the decision since, but with thousands of eyes on her in the blue lights, she knows it was right. 

 

… 

 

She’s the last to sing. Not the one who finishes the song but the last to get a part. And that’s how Jihyo likes it best.

There’s always been a responsibility on her shoulders. As a child it was the responsibility to care for her younger sisters, and now it’s to care for her members. To lead them well and be their pillar. 

And the blue light make way for pink ones as she’s reminded of the last time this particular emotion coursed through every inch of her body. How it last felt to let her entire being give in to feeling of being loved, however strange that might be to say about people, where she’s never met most of them. But as she looks over the pink ocean, holding on to the handrail on the stage of their Fantasy Park concert, she can feel how she meets every single one of them. Can feel the strings that go from her own heart to every single heart in the crowd.

She has never been more in love with the color pink. Has never been more in love with the life she’s been lucky enough to get.

For a moment, as her hands clutch the rail, she’s sure that none of the hardship ever mattered. That all her tears and worries never mattered, if she gets to see this.

 

But she’s wrong. It all mattered. The sleepless nights after the others had chosen her as their leader. The tears she had cried into Nayeon’s hair, confessing how scared she is, and how much she worries for the little ones and for the foreign members. The pleas one night when she had climbed into Jeongyeon’s bed and begged her to take over. Had begged her to become the leader, to take the burden off of Jihyo’s shoulders. How she had cried and felt the weight of the world on her heart.

It all mattered. Because if she hadn’t seen that side, she wouldn’t have felt this level of impact. Wouldn’t have been able to love as much as she does. It’s every tear and worry that makes her able to love every single fan with all of her heart. That makes her able to hold immense amounts of respect for the people that choose them. Makes her want more and more and more and never stop. Because being loved like this is everything she could ever want. 

 

There’s a responsibility that comes with being a leader, Jihyo knows as the pink light fade and the blue ones shine once more. But there’s also a great honor. An honor in being able to help her members, her friends, her sisters, shine as brightly as they are tonight. And she knows it reaches every corner of the arena. Can feel it in the sincerity of her words as they reach the people who have chosen to be here with them tonight.

 

…

 

In the end, it’s the hearts of the arena beating as one, that make it all worthwhile; make them sure that no matter what might happen in the future, they’ll go through it together. 

Twice and Once.


End file.
